Little Spider
by Socrates7727
Summary: She was fine, everything was fine. Except he was back, and he clearly remembered something she didn't. It's been a long time since anyone called her little spider... Dom/sub relationship, WinterWidow, sub!Natasha One-shot for now, not a lemon just fluffy angst


AN I don't own Marvel or any of its characters! Dom/sub relationship, WinterWidow

* * *

Natasha was fine. Everything was… fine. She ignored the agitation that brewed under her skin and, for the most part, she controlled that ache in her chest. She was a weapon, a well trained machine, and she'd be damned if she was going to let something that pitiful stop her. Honestly, it was under control. Until he magically walked back into her life.

Bucky was what they called him now, but she couldn't make herself associate that name with him. He wasn't Bucky, not to her. But maybe, just maybe, she could have pulled herself together and ignored it if she hadn't seen that flash of recognition in his face. He knew her.

They didn't talk about it-or anything, really-and Bucky stuck close to Steve while the dust settled from the feud with Tony but they were all in the tower and it was bound to happen sooner or later. She found herself stuck, hovering on edge like she was both hoping and dreading it. Clint even noticed and called her out on it, asking if an assignment had gone wrong or something when he wasn't paying attention, but she just snapped at him that she was fine.

And she was fine.

She was still breathing, she could still feel her heartbeat in her veins, and she was standing on her own. By all accounts, she was better than she'd been for the majority of her life. But that little nagging itch drove her insane. It started at the base of her spine, forced her to dig her nails into her skin and constantly scratch at it without ever reaching it, but it spread to her entire body the more she thought about it. Fuck the Red Room. Fuck what they'd turned her into, what they'd drilled into her. Fuck them for getting her so addicted to something so pathetic.

But she knew it was going happen sooner or later. That buzz beneath her skin, that ache that seemed to infest every muscle in her body, and even the little tremors that shook her hands when she wasn't careful to steady them. She'd been fine on her own. She'd handled herself for over ten years without a single slip or bad episode, but seeing him changed that. He made it real again. And she could guess that he knew that, from that spark in his eyes, but she still groaned internally when he cornered her.

" _Natalya_ ," She stilled and forced herself to wince and shake it off. That name wasn't even a fucking nickname it wasn't supposed to settle into her like a warm drink or a hot shower. But at the tone of his voice and the Russian, the room immediately cleared. He didn't speak much and the others knew that, especially Steve, but when he did speak it was never in Russian-never directed specifically at her. The low, authoritative note to it though sent them all running.

"Yes?" She addressed him in English, knowing he wouldn't like it, but he just tsked his tongue at her. Fuck. She swallowed hard and set the salad she was making back on the counter so she wouldn't drop the bowl. Even from across the room, she could feel his displeasure. She cursed at herself and at him and at the Red Room for wiring her this way but her mind jolted when she heard a footstep. Slow, measured, leisurely walking over to her. Already, he was in control. She chewed her lower lip, staring at the salad as hard as she could and busying herself with anything she could find, but he tsked again. He was in control and he knew it, too.

" _Natalya, you know that isn't what I was asking for."_ She stiffened in spite of herself and swore at the salad. One damn sentence and it pooled in her stomach like poison because her mind emptied of everything except a constant stream of _he's mad he's mad he's mad he's mad_. He was close to her now, too, merely a few feet away. No doubt he could hear her heartbeat, could see how tense she was, but she just swore internally. He knew exactly what he was doing to her.

" _Natalya, you're on edge. Tell me what's wrong._ " It wasn't a question, it was a command. She twisted her face up and rubbed at her eyes, trying to get any form of normal thought back into her head, but she was so overwhelmingly aware of his presence that she couldn't think. He was mad. That was ridiculous, she knew, because his tone had barely changed and they hadn't even spoken since he'd come back but it was all she could think. He'd given her a command, and she was hesitating.

"What, so we're friends now?" She spat out the English like she was confident but winced, waiting for the hit or the yelling that would follow. He stayed still where he was standing though, regarding her with those cold eyes. Slowly, he squinted at her.

" _Natalya, I asked you a question. If you're uncomfortable, you know what to say. Otherwise, don't make me repeat myself._ " She shivered and clenched her hand into a fist on the counter. Fuck! She hated this, she hated all of it. His voice drilled into her like iron nails and again her mind focused on that one thought: _he's mad, he's mad, appease him he's mad_. He'd brought up the safeword, given her an out, but surely he knew. That word was tainted, covered in fear and in pain, because the only time she'd ever used it she'd suffered more than her entire life combined. She did want out of this, badly, but she didn't want to say it. She didn't want him to hurt her, and she didn't want to anger him. And, maybe, some part of her wanted to slip back into that dynamic.

" _I can't do this._ " Even as she said it, she knew it was a lie. He'd be mad that she lied to him, but her mouth was already forming the words. Fuck why couldn't she breathe!? An old, familiar weight sank into her until she couldn't focus or breathe or even see straight.

" _You can._ " He was pleased by the Russian, that she was following his example, and that let her relax a bit. " _You look like you're about to snap, Natalya. I said tell me what's wrong._ " She shook her head, biting back tears for some godforsaken reason, but he just waited patiently. She was overwhelmed and she couldn't breathe but he just waited.

" _Natalya_ …" Suddenly, he was beside her. She almost jumped out of her skin and the bowl clattered onto the counter but he didn't even blink. He raised his hand and caught her chin between his forefinger and his thumb. Slowly, he lifted her face so she had to look up at him. There was so much… something in those eyes. It wasn't cold, necessarily, and it wasn't desire but if she stared at it long enough she could fool herself into believing it was affection.

" _Kneel, Pauchok_." Fucking hell! She fell to her knees on the hardwood floor without missing a beat, feeling that word seize in her chest and choke her. _Little spider_ … No one had called her that for a long time and, like a trigger word, it whipped her back into that old mindset she'd thought she'd managed to forget. But he stepped up beside her and lifted her chin again.

" _Pauchok… So good for me._ " The praise hit her hard and she felt light, untouchable, for a moment before crashing back down. " _Move to the center of the room._ " She did without thinking-and god, that was both beautiful and terrifying, the not thinking-but she watched him out of the corner of her eye as she did. He locked the door. She kneeled again and simply waited.

" _Pauchok, you've let yourself get wound up tight. I can see your threads, straining, on the verge of snapping. Why did you let this happen?"_ She whimpered, as if begging for his forgiveness, but he just shook his head. " _I expect you to answer me, Pauchok._ " Fuck. She was fine, right? She made herself breathe. Because she was fine.

" _I'm sorry_." Those were the only words she could manage. He tsked at her. But she knew she was fucking pathetic without him saying a word. He stepped closer, close enough that she could reach out and touch his leg if she dared, but he didn't touch her. She stifled a whine in her throat.

" _What's that, Pauchok? If you want something, you only need to ask for it."_ She wanted to throw up, though, because she couldn't do it-she couldn't say _that_. But he knew. He fucking knew exactly what she wanted and he ghosted his fingers near her cheek, never letting them touch. She let out a whimper before she could stop herself. He cooed gently next to her ear and teased at her collarbone with his fingertips but it wasn't enough. Fuck it'd been less than five minutes and she was already on the verge of sobbing at his feet. He hummed low and next to her ear. Slow, repetitive, and melodic. It was a lullaby.

" _Bayu bayushki bayu…_ " Something in her wavered, feeling the melody of the lullaby as it sank into her flesh, but she struggled against it. She tried to push it out of her body, struggling to stay upright as his whispered words teased the side of her neck. Fuck she just needed _something_. Anything to ground her. She hated herself for it but she longed and ached for the familiar touch of a master. For a hold, a touch, anything that would keep her from swaying and collapsing to the floor the way her body begged her to.

" _Don't fight it, Pauchok. I can see you struggling, you're trying to be cold and strong. Stop it._ " She flinched like she'd been reprimanded and fell forward onto her hands but he just moved with her. " _Stop it, Pauchok. You have no pride to ruin, no one to pretend for. With me, you are weak._ " She gasped when his breath hit her shoulder, and shuddered at the tingling sensation it sent down her spine. She swore but it ended in a broken little whimper and he just sighed.

" _Tell me what you need, Pauchok. I won't ask again._ " It didn't even register how different this man was from the 'Bucky' she'd met, she just trembled on the floor. Fuck she had to say it. Her skin burned and ached for any kind of contact and she realized just how starved she'd been all those years. He hovered beside her, his lips inches from her ear, as tears started down her cheeks like waterfalls. Her body shook with every sob but he was there, waiting. _Expecting._

" _Please… please!_ " She barely choked out the words, trying as hard she she possibly could, and she needed him so goddamn badly to understand that she wasn't being disobedient, she was trying so fucking hard. But it was hard to speak when she couldn't even stay upright.

" _Good,"_ That whisper, a reassurance from him, almost took her to the ground. " _What do you need, Pauchok?_ " She whimpered but knew better than to grab for his leg or cling to his sweats. Breathe dammit! Gradually, she made herself take in oxygen and let it out but he was still there, just waiting, and she choked and stumbled but she was trying so hard. She just wanted to be good for him. She wanted a reward for all of this suffering, but something in her held back. She was afraid. Because in the Red Room, hitting your breaking point meant more pain-no matter how long it took, there was always more pain just waiting to build that breaking point up higher. But he was asking her to trust him. Not the Red Room, him.

" _Pauchok_ …" She fought for another breath, teetering on the edge, but then his fingers brushed her cheek and she fell. Hard.

" _Fuck please! Please touch me! Please-_ " She choked, the words catching in her throat, but they were flooding out now as fast as the tears and she couldn't stop. " _Please I need you! Please! Please touch me fuck please take control I need you-_ " He stopped her with a single shh. The second she stopped, she started to physically fall because all of her energy, every ounce of her strength, was just gone and she shattered onto the floor but somehow didn't hit it? With a jolt, she realized he'd kneeled beside her. He was holding her by the back of her neck, easing her to lie on the ground without injuring herself.

" _Fuc- please I… Please fuck!_ " She continued to mumble incoherently, whimpering at even the slightest movement from him, but he just stroked her hair. Slowly, as she began to breathe, he pulled her into his lap so that her head rested against his stomach but, even then, he smoothed her hair and gently rubbed her temple. She just sobbed against him.

" _Good girl_ …" he whispered, running his free hand up and down between her shoulder blades. Instantly, the contact grounded her. But she was still shaking, even as the praise relaxed her a bit, and he seemed to realize.

" _Pauchok, why are you tense?_ " She braced herself, knowing exactly what was coming the moment she spoke, but his voice was so honestly worried that she forced the words out.

" _Waiting for my punishment._ " He hissed and recoiled, barely keeping a hand on her arm as an anchor in afterthought. She braced, but he didn't hit her.

" _Why would I punish you, Pauchok?"_ God she was pathetic. She whimpered and buried her face in his stomach, trying to hide somehow, even when he was clearly waiting for an answer. How the fuck was she supposed to explain that knee jerk reaction? That she was waiting for him to hit her, to hurt her, because that was what happened when she fell like this. When she was weak.

" _Because you're angry._ " He sighed. Again, she waited for a hit of some kind but it didn't come. Gently, she felt him take her face in his hands and lift it so she had to look him in the eyes. They were that same blue grey, but they were warm, now. And concerned.

" _Listen to me, Pauchok, and look at me when I say this. You are not a punching bag. Even if I was angry-and I'm not-I wouldn't hurt you as some kind of outlet. You know the rules: you're only punished if you're disobedient, and you can stop this at any time with your word._ "

" _Doesn't mean shit_." She surprised herself by mumbling into the material of his sweats, but he heard it. He stopped stroking her hair.

" _Natalya,_ " She stiffened at her name, not a petname. " _Your safeword means a lot. I will stop, instantly, if you use it. You know that, right?_ " She nodded, because she did know that, but she didn't add anything else. It wasn't worth explaining. It would just anger him further. So she nodded again, like that was it, and nuzzled back into his stomach. Honestly, she just wanted that comfort again but he lifted her chin again and shook his head.

" _No, I want to understand. Why did you say that if you trust that I'll stop?_ " There weren't words to explain. And, even if there were, she didn't have the voice to say them. She whimpered into him, hoping she could distract him, but he shook his head. He wanted an actual answer. She couldn't think of one, couldn't put a word to that terror in her gut, and she wanted so badly to just let the comfort and familiarity drown it out but he was determined. So, slowly, she lifted the back of her shirt up in answer. She felt him lurch, almost gagging. Wordless, she pulled the shirt back down and buried her face in his stomach again.

" _Natalya_ , who did that to you?" The switch back to English jolted her enough to make her hear him, but she just shook her head. "Tell me, _Talya_. Who did that to you?" She swallowed hard. God she hated the way her hands shook at that question, at all of this. She hated how weak, how needy she was like this. How easily he could reduce her down to nothing. But he went back to smoothing her hair, seeming to ask for an answer with every touch.

"My old Master." He grimaced, even though she spoke in English like he'd asked. When he was quiet, she dared to risk a glance up at his face. If there was anger, at least, she would know to brace herself. But there was nothing. He stared back at her, his eyes empty, and she couldn't tell if it was a relief or if it terrified her even more that there was just… nothing.

" _Master_?" But he hissed, anger flashing across his face.

"Don't call me that." Something in her just snapped. She couldn't stand the idea of losing this, of just barely touching the edges of that old relief and having it ripped away from her. Tears started down her face again but she hid them in his shirt, masking the shaking of her hands by clenching them into fists. He was rejecting her. She'd been so close and she'd fucked it up. Slowly, she made herself crawl away from him. But his hand shot out and snatched her wrist, pulling her back before she could get far. When he saw the tears on her face, he hesitated.

" _Talya_ , what's wrong? Did I hurt you?" The urge to crawl back to him, to bury her face in his chest and cling to him as long as he let her, overwhelmed her but she swallowed it down. Slow, deep breaths. She was fine, right? She'd been fine before and she was fine now.

"I don't want to make you more angry." He sighed so heavily it looked like he might collapse in on himself. Slowly, he sat cross legged across from her and waited until she mirrored him, taking one of her hands in his-but only one.

"No, I'm sorry. I'm not angry with you, I'm not upset. Please, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have reacted like that and I'm sorry. I just…" His hand clenched into a fist at his side and she shied away, but he just winced and forced it to flatten on his thigh. "I just hate that. I hate it so much, Talya, that that is what they turned this into for you. I'm sorry. I know we shouldn't be having this conversation after what just happened but, if you're steady enough, can we please talk?" She just gaped at him, not totally believing what she was seeing. Bucky-the Winter Soldier-was sitting here asking to talk. He hadn't spoken to anyone, practically, since coming to the tower, and he was asking her to talk. She nodded.

Slowly, he helped her up and led them to his room, locking the door behind them before joining her in sitting on the bed. He kept distance between them and she hated it. She wanted to surrender, to fall, even if he hurt her. Why couldn't he see that?

"Talya, I need to ask you something and I need you to be honest. Can you do that for me?" It was so much like a command, even though it was gentle, she immediately nodded. "Do you remember when I was your master?" That made her hesitate. She'd assumed he knew the lullaby, how to walk and how to act with her, from training other recruits or maybe even from watching her but he'd been her master? And she couldn't remember him?

"No…" He bit his lip, looking more pained at that than anything else she'd said since first kneeling.

"The other masters, they hurt you-I know they did. They took this and used it against you, used it to break you down even further. But do you remember earlier than that? Before you started training with sexual manipulation, when they used it as a coping mechanism? A way to ensure loyalty, to calm you down if you snapped during training?" She shook her head but the movement slowed as she thought about it. Vaguely, she remembered kneeling and enjoying it. But she'd assumed it was like it was now, she craved that surrender and didn't care what kind of pain came with it.

"Things were different after I went under, I suppose. Can you tell me about it?" She stiffened but nodded, trying to seem like she was stronger than him in this instance. But he didn't put up any show of strength or control. He look fucking shattered, actually.

"Master started my training when I was fourteen. We each got one when we reached seventh class and they bonded with us, learned us. Master was angry a lot. I didn't like having sex with him but I needed that surrender so I did it. It got to the point where I was so addicted to that blissful escape that I didn't care what came with it. The cane, sex, even just a regular beating." Across from her on the bed, he was stiff and his hands were clenched into white fists in his lap. But he just looked at her.

"I'm not angry with you," he reassured her. "Is your old Master still alive?" She heard the implication there: _because if he is, I'll kill him_. Why was he so angry about this, though? Why did he care? It was just a couple scars, not the end of the world, and it wasn't like it mattered to him.

"No, it was part of graduation. I slit his throat." He seemed to sigh in relief. "Hardest kill I ever did." He stared at her. Part of him seemed dead set on indignation-shocked that she could have trouble killing the man who gave her those scars-but a larger part, the soldier part, looked like it understood. Because even if he hurt her, he was all she had. She'd worshipped him. And killed him.

"And the safeword? Did he ignore it?" The thought alone seemed to piss him off but she just shrugged. She kept her eyes on the ground.

"I only ever used it once. That's when he gave me these." She gestured to her back but the way the man next to her winced and hunched over at that, like the thought physically hurt him, made her hesitate. Why would he care? There were tears in his eyes, though, as he looked at her.

"Talya, I want to start over, okay?" She nodded, even if she was anxious about it. "I know I used that lullaby and the same tactics and I switched to Russian, but I'm sorry. I didn't realize what they'd done. I thought… I thought it would make you remember me, when you submitted to me, but clearly it doesn't and I don't want that connotation with this. I know you don't remember, but I was the one who trained you to be submissive. I didn't hurt you, and I respected your safeword. I hope that I made you want to submit, that you trusted me, but I don't know if that's true or if you were just afraid of me. Do you remember any of that?" There was some vague inkling in her mind but she couldn't place it.

"It feels familiar, but I don't remember." He just nodded, taking her answer in stride.

"Talya, you're falling apart. I want to be able to be here for you, like this, and I want you to be able to trust me. But I don't want to bring back bad memories, or hurt you. I never want to hurt you. Do you still want to be submissive with me?" She nodded, without thinking, because it was so instinctual. She wasn't sure she could quite believe it, yet, but she was hoping.

"Yes please." He gave her a little smile that felt like warm cocoa in her veins.

"I'm glad. Earlier, you said you needed me to touch you. I'm not going to ask you or force you to do anything you don't want to do, but I get the feeling that you've been starving yourself of human contact for a long time. Do you want to just cuddle?" She was waiting for that word, hoping for that word, and nearly pounced on him the second he said.

"Yes!" He jumped. "I mean… yes, I'd like that." He gave her another little smile and laid on the bed, leaving a clear space for her that she fell into almost immediately. Gently, he slipped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest. He smelled like home.

* * *

Thanks for reading! Please review! Honestly it makes my whole week!


End file.
